My Sun
by Kella Toh
Summary: It was so obvious who she bloomed for. Hinata-centric NaruHina


**Title: **My Sun

**Characters/Pairings: **Hinata; NaruHina

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Naruto.

**A/N: **I know, I know, 2 in one day. I really should be doing something more productive. T_T This one is new, too! Not even old! I'm sorry, Wroathe... Anyhow, this is a REALLY rough drabble, probably riddled with mistakes, but I just felt like I HAD to publish it. I'm in a really NaruHina mood, aside from my Hinata mood. Enough with my rambling, though in all seriousness this is more Hinata-centric than NaruHina considering it's pretty much just on Hinata's self-struggle. ENJOY.

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Hinata will always view Naruto as her little hero.

She's not sure _why _necessarily. Anyone else could have exhibited coming over adversity (Kiba over his father's absence, Shino over extreme introversion, Neji over emptiness), but instead she chose to be inspired by _him._ The Konoha heat has been rumored to play a part in her dedication and admiration. It's not a far stretch considering the circumstances.

He did not ignore her, nor did he seek a friendship with her. For many years, they remained in a constant limbo of acquaintanceship, him finding her a tad off, and her finding him irresistible. He would go about life, and she would go about life, both alone in different ways.

Then came the infamous chuunin exams, and neither were quite the same after. Hinata, a feeling of concrete infatuation (to weigh her down by, and to stand on), Naruto, a feeling of true age (he had accomplished something, and lost something very important). Both had a sense of lost innocence.

Time marched on, as they say, and things changed. People changed, moved on, grew older. Sasuke had left Konoha in his revenge, Naruto in his pursuit of knowledge and skill, and Sakura in spirit. The rest of Konoha 12 remained, growing and thriving like vines growing towards the sun, each growing for different reasons.

She grew for him, always him. It was so painfully obvious, suitors tended to stay at arms length in fear of rejection. Her sun _was _him, _for _him, always at the highest regards so no one could knock him down for her. Some saw her as a fool for believing in nothing but a shadow, others saw her as counting someone else's eggs before they were layed. She was aware of and knew of both, but kept growing.

No one saw her grow, as she had her own little private sun. She inched towards it, letting her hair run fully down her back. But nonetheless she grew, fuller, better, faster, stronger.

By the time her hero had returned, she was still growing. Her vines were thicker and taller than all the other little plants, but she was still growing - not yet in bloom. Still in hibernation, the cold of winter not yet fully past. She wouldn't bloom for a long, long time.

The invasion of Pein was a rough one - many were killed, few were ever really revived (in spirit, not in body). Naruto had been killed in his own way, another part of his innocence stolen, another part of him slit open and exposed to the horrors of war. He was in a horrible fight with the one that threatened the village himself, and pinned down and faced in inevitable defeat. Then, out of nowhere, something amazing happened.

She appeared.

That little flower, still not in bloom enough to kill him. Her little bud only just growing, but enough to make a splash of color on the black wall of shinobi. The flowers peek through to red petals - of both blood and love. Far from the days of yellow in her virgin dreams, or even lilac of her comfort. It was danger and was obvious.

She fought briefly but hard, she's told with sad eyes.

With six broken ribs, a fractured arm and leg, and multiple puncture wounds to the chest it was a miracle to some she made it out alive. Her plant was scratched, picked, and eaten at by bugs. Devoured by the devil of death, revived by the illusion of life. In the end, she was stronger than even she expected.

And kept going. She refused to sit on her hands and wait for Naruto to make it all on his own. She continued to grow, opening up her horizons, still rising and twisting towards the impossible-to-reach sun that he remained.

War came and went, like the tide in a foreign country she'd never visit came and went. She fought again, her vines grew thicker, her blood darker, and the leaves all the more rougher. Eight broken ribs this time, a broken hand, nose, and a shattered left leg. Still, she grew.

They all returned home, the Uchiha now in tow, all the Akatsuki monsters of the world in their respective dens and coffins (well, mostly ditches). And something remarkable happened.

She bloomed.

She was a strikingly red flower, surprising everyone (including herself). The purple veins of innocence ran still, never quite fading like everyone else's. A bright yellow gynoecium stole attention from the petals, electrifying in radiance. It was daring, raw, and, above all, gorgeous. Something warm in eternal winter, gentle in endless harshness, and kind in perpetual anger.

A red hibiscus in the blindingly white snow. A beacon to be followed. A smile to be smiled. A girl to be loved.

And she was.

.


End file.
